Flowers
by Disciple of Ember
Summary: They were always such pretty things, sure to bring a smile to anyone who saw them. But as anyone could tell you, they never lasted.


**Just a quick one-shot which was very much inspired by a picture of Illya standing in a garden.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night or any of the characters**

* * *

During the war for the Holy Grail, the Emiya residence had been a bustling abode. Housing multiple Masters, it had been host to a unique blend of tensions and companionship not seen in any of the previous fights for the divine relic. Since the war's conclusion, and the subsequent destruction of the Grail, most of that human presence had returned back to their normal homes and lives, leaving it feeling far less crowded than it had been only a few months previously.

Even so, the house wasn't entirely abandoned, and a battle of a very different kind was taking place inside its walls.

Two crimson eyes remained firmly fixed on the object across the table. A small wooden bird with grossly exaggerated proportions stared back. With slow, carful movements, a pale arm wreathed in purple fabric reached out towards the object and gave its rounded head a light flick.

The bird tottered backwards, its spherical body and thin, spindly legs unable to stay upright on their own. It wasn't until the wooden supports on either side caught it that it managed to correct itself and tilt back forwards. The movement continued onwards until it had fallen too far, and the supports once again worked to right its position.

With a small sigh, Illyasviel watched the toy bob back and forth, very slowly losing momentum until it came to a stop in its original upright position. She planted her chin on the table, silently grumbling to herself as she fought against an opponent which had become increasingly present as of late.

Boredom.

For the past several days, she'd been staying at Shirou's home while Taiga was away on a self-imposed vacation. Normally this would have been a wonderful treat for the homunculus, but her quality time with her adopted little-big-brother was repeatedly being interrupted by a very frustrating fact. Shirou had a life beyond keeping her entertained.

School. Work. Volunteering to help those who needed it. All of it meant that he was out of the house for very long periods of the day and she was left to fend for herself. Cleaning had been an amusing distraction the first couple times she'd tried it, but the tedium of the task had quickly drained its appeal. Daytime television was, in her very refined opinion, simply another means of killing one's own brain cells without the use of a heavy blunt object. Wandering the city would have been another option were it not for the fact that Shirou had explicitly asked her not to, claiming that it wasn't safe for a young girl to walk around alone like that.

He was closer to the truth than he could have known. Since the war, her grandfather had yet to make any kind of move for or against her. She knew his methods too well to pretend that he had simply forgotten about them. Until some conclusion could be drawn about his intents, it was better to try to avoid drawing attention.

This had the unfortunate side effect of leaving her without anything fun to do while waiting for Shirou to return home.

Reaching forwards once more, the Einzbern Master pressed the wooden bird backwards as far as it could bend, only releasing it once it was parallel to the table. The toy flung itself forwards as soon as she let go, and began its monotonous dance of repetition once more.

Using her arms as a pillow, she let her gaze follow its movements, drifting after it in a lazy pattern while futilely hoping to alleviate the empty gap of time she had to fill before the day could improve. It was a losing battle, and the girl soon found her eyes drifting closed as she was lulled by the simple routine.

Illya put up some measure of resistance, more out of principal than for any real desire to stay awake, but she was unable to hold it off for long, and soon found herself falling into the waiting grips of sleep.

"I'm home!"

Jolting awake, the girl shot up in her seat at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Shirou!" She called excitedly, jumping up and running to the front door. Just as expected, he stood waiting for her the same as he always did.

The young man let out a muffled shout as the girl-shaped projectile barreled into his midsection and caught him in a crushing hug. It was only through past experience that he managed to keep his footing and avoid falling backwards.

"Ah… well… I'm glad to see you too." He offered, only just able to breathe past the arms threatening to flatten his chest.

An expectant pause followed as Illya waited for him to return the embrace. Strangely, she didn't feel his answering gesture.

"Um… do you think you could let go…?" Shirou forced out. "I can't… breathe…"

Thoroughly annoyed by the unexpected break in routine, the diminutive girl stepped back and threw a miniature glare in his direction. The apologetic smile on his face only caused her to raise an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" Illya asked when she saw the cause for his lack of a reaction. "Why are your arms behind your back?"

He shuffled past her into the house, keeping his back out of sight despite the curious glances she was sending.

"Well…" He began, slipping off his shoes. "I know you've been feeling a little left out lately, so I thought I'd pick you up a present on my way home. Something to keep you company when I'm not here."

Her previous irritation instantly forgotten at the mention of a gift, Illya's face lit up.

"What is it? What is it?" She questioned eagerly, trying to dart around him to get a look. The surprise wasn't to be spoiled that easily however, and he put his training with Sabre to good use in keeping his front facing the albino girl despite her best efforts.

"Now hold on a second." He said, chuckling. "That's not how presents work. Take a seat at the table and I'll show you."

Not wasting an instant, she dashed back to the dining room where she'd been napping only a short while ago and took a seat in her usual place. The toy bird that she'd been observing earlier was carelessly brushed to one side so as to keep it from getting in the way.

"I'm ready!" She called, fidgeting in place with a newfound energy.

"Close your eyes." Shirou answered from the other room. "And no peeking."

She complied, keeping her eyes shut and even placing her hands over them to prove that she wasn't cheating. Her grin grew wider as his footsteps reached her ears and he took his place opposite her at the table. There was a light thud as something was placed in between the two of them and only a supreme effort of will kept her from breaking the rules for an early look.

"All right." He said after what felt like far too long a time. "You can open them now."

Her hands immediately fell away as her imagination was enflamed with all manner of possible outcomes. Images of games, sweets, and dresses filled her head, racing across her thoughts like unrestrained racehorses…

…And slammed to a halt upon seeing what it was.

"So?" Shirou asked, grinning. "What do you think?"

Illya didn't answer. _Couldn't_ answer. Her words had simply vanished upon opening her eyes to find this… thing… laying in front of her.

Caught off guard by her total lack of a response, Shirou's smile turned to an expression of slight concern.

"Illya? Are you all right?"

She tried to speak, but no words would come. There was something caught in her throat. Choking her. Strangling any attempt to talk, breathe, or even think.

A smooth, clear vase was resting on the tabletop, half filled with water. A single green stem broke up the colorless liquid, extending upwards towards the opening at the top. At its tip, six delicate petals were spread open, each as soft as silk and as pure white as newly fallen snow. It was a flower. A beautiful, silky white flower.

It was all she could do to keep from snatching it up and smashing it against the wall.

Had it been anyone else who'd given this to her, she might very well have done just that. A violent, knee-jerk reaction to having something with such dark implications dropped in front of her. But Shirou was different. Despite her initial goal in the Holy Grail War, she very much cared what he thought, and lashing out in such a manner would hurt him.

Besides, it wasn't his fault. He hadn't the slightest idea what he'd just done. To him, it was nothing more than an innocent plant in a vase.

"Illya? What's wrong?" He questioned again, worry clearly written on his face. Seeing his expression, she managed to draw back some measure of self-control.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she looked down and gently pushed the flower away while mumbling something unintelligible.

"What?" Shirou asked, struggling to figure out how he was meant to react.

"I said… I don't like flowers." She offered weakly.

He blinked, too surprised to form any kind of answer to that. While she drew her arms back, wrapping them around her stomach, he looked down at the gift he'd expected to brighten her day.

"You don't like flowers…" He responded. Shirou might not have always been the most perceptive or, if he was honest with himself, intelligent of individuals, but he wasn't so blind as to not see that something much more serious was going on here.

"I'm sorry." He said at last. His voice was carefully measured, wary of stepping on something that was off limits in this unfamiliar territory. "I didn't realize. If it's all right, do you think you could tell me what it is about them that you don't like?"

Illya's fingers clenched, unconsciously digging into her sides. Of course she could tell him. She could go into great detail about it. If she really wanted to, she could probably write an entire book centered exclusively on what it was about flowers that she couldn't stand.

But of course, even though she _could_ tell him, she still couldn't. To do so would be to acknowledge something she fervently tried to pretend didn't exist. A trial she doubted she'd even explain to him once hiding it became impossible.

She shook her head.

"I just… don't…"

Shirou looked down at the vase, and then back up to her again. Inside his chest, he felt a pang of distress. It was in his nature to look for ways to help those in need, and seeing Illya like this left no doubt in his mind that something was very wrong. It was a knowledge only made worse by the fact that he didn't understand it, and therefore didn't know what he could do to make it better.

After another long, empty pause, he fell back on the same strategy he'd employed during the war. He let his instincts decide for him.

Illya gave a small start as the flower was pushed back towards her again, her head snapping up with a questioning look. He did his best to offer a reassuring smile in return.

"I understand if you don't want it…" He began. "…but would you consider at least giving it a chance? You never know. It might just surprise you."

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, unable to grasp onto any of the words that were jumbling together in her head. The more she struggled, the more a knot of frustration grew in her heart. Didn't he see that she didn't want it? Couldn't he tell that it was painful for her just to look at it? She clenched her teeth as the simmering emotion started to boil. Unable to hold it back, she opened her mouth to-

"For me?"

The gentle plea silenced her anger before it could voice itself, leaving her with a cold sensation in the absence of its heat. Shoulders slumping, she peeked up at him.

There was no indignation in his face. No annoyance or displeasure that she'd have expected if his actions were merely to try and push his gift after she'd rejected it. Whatever train of thought he was following, he genuinely believed that his actions would help.

Illya sighed, her already tiny frame deflating even further as she did so. It was with a heavy feeling of resignation that she nodded, feeling suddenly too tired to voice any further arguments.

At the very least, Shirou seemed to appreciate her decision. His smile grew, and he ruffled her hair quickly before standing back up.

"Thank you." He said. "Tell you what, I've had a special recipe I've been meaning to try out. You feeling up to having something special for dinner?"

The homunculus girl felt the corners of her mouth twitch up briefly. Nodding once again, straightened up into a more dignified position in her seat, much to his amusement.

"Just you wait." He told her. "You're really going to love this one. I promise."

* * *

Day after day, night after night, the single flower stood untouched in the corner of Illya's room. She did what she could to ignore it. A single glance in the morning, and another before bed merely to remind herself that she'd promised to give it a chance.

Well she'd given it one, and so far it had lived up to all her not-so-lofty expectations.

It was dying. Plain and simple. The pristine petals had started to yellow around the edges, curling inwards towards the stem as the plant wasted away. The head had begun to droop as the fibers that held it in place were eaten away by time. Even the water, something she'd replaced several times so far, was visibly stained with tiny bits of organic matter.

It had yet to do anything she hadn't expected, and what was worse, it only served to make her day drearier each time she saw it. An inescapable fate. A constant reminder.

A mirror.

She didn't know what made her do it, but one night she merely sat down and stared. She didn't bother to think or to speak. It was enough to simply curl up at the edge of her futon and watch the flower with listless, half-lidded eyes.

This would be it. The deterioration had reached the point where it was only just barely hanging on any longer. By morning, it would most certainly be dead. Part of her was happy as this would mean she'd no longer have to pretend to tolerate its presence, but a much larger part was too downcast by the sobering reminder to really care.

She wasn't keeping track of the time she spent there, so she had no idea what time it was when the door to her room was opened and Shirou walked inside.

The girl didn't look up, or give any indication that she'd heard his entrance. She just sat and stared as she had been for however long it had been. It wasn't until her adopted brother had crossed the room and sat down next to her that she tilted her head to the side to look his way.

"Illya." He began softly. "Talk to me. What's wrong? You've been so… quiet lately."

In answer, she merely redirected her gaze back at the vase, drawing her knees up to her chin as she did so.

"…The flower then? Is it really that unpleasant?"

She let out a sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt, not really giving any discernable response. It wasn't like she could just up and tell him. She knew him too well for that. If she explained her condition, he'd do everything in his power to try and fix the damage that had been done, never once stopping to realize that some ailments couldn't be cured. If she told him, he'd break himself trying to save her.

"Why do people like flowers Shirou…?" She asked at last. She hadn't intended to, but the words had come together and something about them felt right.

To his credit, the redhead didn't give her a look or make some strange exclamation at the odd question. He paused, giving it serious consideration before replying.

"Well…" He started. "I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's because flowers are something beautiful. They come with so many different colors, textures, and scents, and no two are exactly alike. I think people like them because they can feel happy just looking at them and knowing that something as pure as that exists."

"But they don't last." Illya stated flatly. "Look at it. It's not pretty anymore. Now it's just rotten, and it's going to die soon. No matter how nice it was, it's only a fleeting thing that disappears as soon as you pluck it."

Shirou shifted at her side, drawing one of his knees up and resting his arm on it.

"Maybe." He conceded. "But that just means that you have to appreciate the time it has left. Even if you know how it ends, you can still enjoy it while it lasts."

"No you can't!" She cried, slamming her palm down on the floor and causing him to jump.

"You _can't_! You know it's just going to die so you can't get attached to it. Nobody _loves _a flower! Nobody _cares_ about a flower! They just put it on a shelf and talk about how cute it looks until it rots away! Then they throw it out and either forget about it or get a new one! When it's gone… nobody really misses it… because it wasn't important to begin with… because it doesn't matter…"

By this point, she had started trembling, her fingers clenching and unclenching against the floorboards. Anger, fear, and sorrow were eating away at her heart in equal measure. She hated feeling like this, hated caring about something she'd given up on long ago, and her hatred only served to intensify the emotions.

Very suddenly, an arm was draped across her shoulders and she found herself being pulled into a gentle hug. She tensed, wanting to fight and resist and feed the self-destructive temper that was gnawing at her, but it was a passing reaction. One that quickly vanished as she slumped and let her head sink into his shoulder. Shirou didn't say anything. He just sat there holding her until she'd calmed down. When her breathing had returned to normal and she no longer shook in his grasp, he backed away enough to look down at her.

"I think I'll have to disagree with you on that one." He offered, giving a sad smile. "Getting attached to things, even if they don't last, is part of human nature. The amount of time you have with it doesn't make it any less precious. Yes. You can love a flower. Even knowing it's doomed from the start, you can still care about it, and you can still hurt when it's gone. Trust me…"

He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down.

"…I know that one firsthand. You remember Sabre don't you? Looking back, it was pretty silly of me to fall for her like I did, but that didn't stop me."

Illya was quiet for a long while, brushing a thumb over the fabric of her pajamas while she considered what he'd said. He waited patiently, letting her choose to continue when she was ready.

"…Did you regret it…?" She asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"No." His answer was delivered without doubt or hesitation. "I didn't. Even if things didn't work out, even if we never really had a chance to begin with, I was happy to have known her like that. And you know…"

A lopsided grin formed on his face, in direct contrast to the serious nature of the conversation.

"…I think she had a soft spot for you. She was just too proud to admit it."

That got a small giggle out of Illya as she remembered the sword-wielding Servant and her knightly personality. The sound must have been exactly what Shirou needed to hear, because his face brightened considerably.

"Hey, you can still laugh." He said, giving her shoulder a playful push. "With all that frowning, I'd thought you'd forgotten how."

The Einzbern Master stuck her tongue out at him in response, earning another hair ruffling as a reward.

Sitting back, the two of them let silence return. This time however, it was the quiet, thoughtful kind rather than the unpleasant weight of empty air. Illya put a hand up to her mouth to cover it as she yawned, feeling fatigued after their discussion.

"It's getting pretty late isn't it?" Shirou pointed out. "I think it's time we set in for the night. If you're feeling better that is."

"Yeah…" She said wistfully. "We should. I'm all right."

He leaned over giving her one last quick hug before rising to his feet and making his way over to the door. Holding it open, he turned back to her.

"Goodnight Illya." He said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Shirou." She answered. "And… thank you."

He smiled in response, shutting the door and heading off to his own room while she crawled up to her pillow. Laying her head down, she gave the vase another look before closing her eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

The next morning was a pleasant one. Despite being rather lethargic from the warmth of the day, Illya found herself feeling giddy she got dressed. Her good mood didn't seem to have any one particular source, and she didn't bother questioning it. In a way, she was simply happy to be happy.

As she started towards the door to see what Shirou would be cooking for breakfast, something caught her eye. The vase, having been momentarily forgotten, drew her gaze back to its corner. What she saw left her with a feeling she didn't quite have words for.

The flower was still alive. Despite being weathered and worn, its petals still held onto the bent stem, seeming to wink at her in the morning sunlight. By rights, it shouldn't have made it this long, but nature seemed to have found favor with the little plant and granted it time beyond what it should have lasted through.

Illya observed it, unmoving, for a full minute before she managed to look away. She let the bubbling sensation roll over her, enjoying the sense of lightness that came with it.

Wearing a smile she didn't fully understand, She opened the door and made her way through.


End file.
